


Stage Fright

by Snowgrouse



Series: Stage Fright [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Doctor Who, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowgrouse/pseuds/Snowgrouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John squats on the Crucible rooftop, sucking on his last pre-show fag and wondering why the hell this thing doesn't get any easier over time. Because you'd <i>think</i>. But no. Every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stage Fright

**Author's Note:**

> Dave/John backstage hurt/comfort. Massive thanks to Versaphile and thisisgallifrey for betaing.

John squats on the Crucible rooftop, sucking on his last pre-show fag and wondering why the hell this thing doesn't get any easier over time. Because you'd _think_. But no. Every time. This isn't even Hamlet, for fuck's sakes. It's just a little play, just for a couple of weeks and he's still shitting bricks over it. Briefly, he contemplates jumping off the roof and then groans at himself. Deja fucking vu. Lord almighty, imagine the Life on Mars headlines. The costume would just be the icing on the cake. 

Oh shit, the costume. He brushes fag ash off his thighs and hopes it won't show. Maybe he can pass it off as a character thing. Right? _As if_ , he thinks on his way to the dressing room. First night and he's already ruined his trousers. This doesn't bode well. Now, John doesn't think of himself as a superstitious actor, but he could bloody well do with a good omen for once. Something to distract him from the panic.

When he enters the room, it turns out that something is sitting in his chair and grinning like an idiot. Complete with a rose in his teeth.

 _"David."_

"Jhonh."

John plucks the rose from David's teeth. "I thought you were supposed to be in Poland, you berk."

David waggles his eyebrows. "Skills. C'mere." David grabs him in a bear hug, squeezing the air out of John's lungs. "It'll be fine."

John pulls back, staring at his shoes. "If you say so." Even as he says it, he realises just how mopey he's being, even if David's presence is helping. He's just not ready to relax yet, and that's probably impossible at this point anyway. He turns to check himself in the mirror in case his makeup got smudged, only to see David's reflection frowning behind him, the frown quickly disappearing behind a mask of politeness. _John, you're such a prick._ David's come all this way, and this is how he treats him? 

"Sorry. I do appreciate the effort." He busies himself straightening out a photo of Lennon. 

"It's okay." David puts his arms around him from behind and tucks his chin into John's shoulder. "Remember, I still owe you," he drawls, smiling gently.

John risks a glance at David. It probably says a lot about his current state of mind that he can't even think about sex right now. He probably couldn't get it up for anyone when he's feeling like this. Although you couldn't blame David for not trying. Fuck, he's pressing himself against John's back, so warm, and is smirking at him through the mirror. He runs his hands across John's sides, oh so gently, and John can see himself flushing. 

"David, we can't--"

"Mm hmm?" David kisses his neck. "Who says we can't?" His breath is hot in John's ear and the scratch of his stubble _sparks_ through John's body. 

Bastard. John grits his teeth. 

"I do." 

David's voice is now steadier, more serious. He strokes John's arms, holding his gaze. 

"You say that, but do you really believe that?" 

John doesn't have an answer to that. He doesn't know what he feels right now. He hates it when he gets like this, hates it when he can't break out of the chaos and the panic, even when there's someone right there offering him comfort. It's always so hard for him to snap out of it it's ridiculous. An actor adapts, but it's easier when you have a script to follow, a director to tell you what to do. Real life doesn't offer him that luxury. 

David's gaze grows darker and he lifts his head from the crook of John's neck. That's it, John thinks. He's sick of John's moping and he's going to walk away.

But he isn't going anywhere. He squeezes John's arms, firmly. Considers him for several, long seconds before he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Am I going to have to make you want it, John?"

_Fuck._

It's not a threat. It's a negotiation. And he knows exactly what David means by it. John's stomach lurches because he's scared to take up the offer, a part of him furious at David knowing him better than he knows himself. It's not good on his ego, no. David knows what John needs, before John can even begin to articulate it with words. _Yes, David_ , he wants to say. _Go for it._ But stubborn pride and fear hold him back. John feels naked, more naked than he's ever been when bent in half under David. It's much easier to suck and fuck than to ask for someone else to take the reins, to ask for that kind of trust. Especially when it's you who's being asked to make that choice, not some character you can rinse off in the shower, washing all their bad choices and mistakes down the drain.

"Look at me, John."

John does, although it's difficult. David's focused gaze is hard enough to bear in front of the camera, let alone in private. Where the hell does David find that rock-solid stillness within him, that unwavering strength? Is it because John is envious of that stillness that he can't get enough of David, wishing somehow to imbibe that strength from their every encounter, to learn it, to saturate himself with it? Is that it? Is that why he needs David? 

There. He's admitted it. He needs David. He needs this. 

He slumps back into David's arms with a heavy sigh.

"Yes."

The tenderness with which David kisses him is a surprise. What did he expect, though? A hard fuck and a spanking? He isn't quite sure himself, but tells himself to stop analysing so fucking much and just flows into the kiss, letting David take the lead. It's luxurious, being allowed to let go, just being held and kissed, touched with gentleness and concern. David knows exactly what he likes, too, and spends his time brushing mouths, pulling back just to gift the pleasure of his lips pressing against John's again and again. From years of experience, he knows where to curl his tongue, how to brush his fingers just behind John's ears to make him melt in his arms. It's the familiarity that undoes John just as much as the technique does: that David knows him so well, that David _remembers_ , and does this to comfort John rather than to satisfy his own greed. David gives him so much it makes his chest ache; so much he can never fucking repay this, and his eyes sting with sudden tears. 

David pulls back, breathless, smiling. "We really do need to distract you, don't we?" He turns them towards the mirror again. "Go on. Touch yourself."

 _No_ , a part of John says. _Not now_. And as that part of himself gets ready to unleash a torrent of reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, John tells that part to _shut the fuck up_ and forces his hands to his zip. _You're being seduced, you twonk._ He's not going to miss this.

David holds him still, his hands squeezing his waist, and John shivers at the hunger in David's eyes as he takes his cock out. He buys himself time by taking his balls out as well, tucking his underpants over the zip so it won't snag on his skin. The ritualism of the act doesn't escape him, the way he's _displaying himself_ , making this into an offering. Baring himself, laying his body and his fears at David's feet. And it terrifies him how turned on he is by all this, all the adrenaline from the stage fright now morphing into full-body arousal. His hands are shaking as he starts to stroke his cock, but David doesn't seem to mind. He just holds him still, clasps John's body against his and refuses to let go.

"Show me."

Fuck. John closes his eyes and concentrates, finds just the right position for his hand, just the right grip. He's never done this kind of thing before, not even with David. How do you wank when it's not a fantasy you're in, but reality? Who do you focus on when you're not thinking about someone to fuck, but it's yourself staring back at you, yourself as someone else's sex object? To be honest, all of this is so surreal it might as well be some bizarre erotic dream and he'll wake up any second now with a hard-on and a wet patch on his trousers. 

"That's it", David croons, mouth on his ear. David's breath is coming faster now, and John feels ridiculously proud that the sight of him can do this to David. He remembers those times girls have stripped for him and wonders if this is how they felt, this mix of vulnerability and power. He experiments with this power by grinding his arse into David's hips and feels just how hard David is, his own cock swelling in his hand as David hisses.

David runs his hands across John's torso and clasps his chest."You won't be smiling so much once we get back to my hotel tonight", he chuckles, a soft rumble against John's back.

John rests his head on David's shoulder and watches him through hooded eyes. He's supposed to go back to London tonight. David _knows_ he's supposed to be in London tonight. And the bastard also knows how hard he is to resist. John chuckles right back at him and shakes his head. "And prithee, what terrible fate awaits me at the hotel?"

"Well, you see--" David slides his hands to John's waist and lowers his voice. "Once I have you face down and naked on that bed, you're not going anywhere."

"Yeah?" John tugs a little faster with his hand.

"Yeah." David slips his hands under the waistband of John's trousers, fingertips in the dips of John's hips, stroking there softly. The same way he holds him when he's just about to enter him. "I'm going to hold you down, John. Going to pin your wrists to the bed _and eat your arse._ "

"Oh god." John fucking _jerks_ at that, thighs against the dresser, making the makeup jars clatter, a drop of precome trickling right over his knuckles. "Fuck." Helplessly, he watches as David reaches down to play with that drop, then licks it off his fingers. 

"Want to see you like this tonight. Dripping." He slips one hand between John's buttocks, pressing a wet finger to John's hole. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, but that feels good, and John wanks himself harder with his sticky hand, grinding on David's finger, moaning far too loudly. 

"Fuck." 

"I will." David is now panting against his shoulder, and dimly John wonders how the hell he can keep from touching himself right now. Jesus. John's close himself, but wants to make this last, fuck, he has to have more. "Tell me."

"Well, the thing is--" and David pushes another finger inside, only barely in but they're there, fuck--"I'm not going to stop until you hump that bed. Until you drip on the sheets. Until you _beg_."

"Oh yeah?" John means for that to sound cocky, but it comes out high-pitched. He's begging already and he knows it, watches his cock getting slicker and slicker, the red tip peeking out of his hand. David's hand wraps around his own, squeezing as he growls into John's ear. 

"Say it."

Oh god. John jerks in his hand. "Fuck me."

"Yeah?" David moves their hands on John's cock. "How hard do you want to be fucked, John? So hard you'll still feel it tomorrow? Is that what you want?" 

John groans. He imagines riding David's cock, slamming down on him, just fucking taking it until it hurts, the sweet ache inside him lasting long into the day. He thinks of walking on stage, in front of all those people, with the memory of David's cock inside him, fresh scratches from David's nails under his shirt. Fuck. That's it. He can't hold it back, he can't. He has to come. His head lolls on David's shoulder. 

"Fuck. Yes. Please."

"Look at yourself. Look."

John bites into his lip and takes in the picture David's painted, with himself at the centre. He's flushed and sweaty all over, clothes rumpled, writhing between David's hands like a whore, and he doesn't care because it's fucking _magnificent_. It's a masterpiece. But he needs more. He moans and tries to push back on David's fingers--fuck, he's so close, so close.

David just smiles, one of his ridiculously radiant and smug smiles, and John doesn't know whether to tackle him or punch him. Gently, David leans in and follows the strokes of John's hand on his cock, letting John set the rhythm, adding a few squeezes of his own in between. 

"Let me see you come." 

John barely hears what David's saying because he's already coming, arching in David's arms, fucking himself on David's fingers and pumping his cock, crying out helplessly as he shoots spurt after spurt of come all over the dresser, all over the makeup jars, even the mirror itself. 

He shakes long after his orgasm, knees wobbling, sure he would fall over if it weren't for David holding him. Somehow, David manages to transfer him to the sofa and wipe them both down before flopping beside John. The sofa is far too small for a cuddle, but David skillfully arranges his legs and arms on it, mostly by draping them around John.

John stares at the ceiling and tells it not to spin so much. How the hell he'll manage a play after this, let alone a secret hotel tryst, he does not know. But right now, he doesn't care, and that's what's most important. His mind is feeling delightfully un-fucked. 

"Thank you", he mumbles into David's shirt. 

"My pleasure." David kisses his hair. "Just make sure you don't fall asleep." He glances at his watch. "You've got ten minutes, by the looks of it. And I should get going." 

John gets up with a groan and starts straightening his costume. He's starting to feel a little embarrassed, and doesn't want to come across as ungrateful. He puts a hand on David's shoulder as he's halfway out of the door. "Sure you don't want a suck or anything?"

"Got to make you want it, don't I?" David winks. "Leave you something to look forward to at the hotel."

John shakes his head. "What would I do without you?"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

John grabs David and wipes that smug grin off his face with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/432360). Best read as a separate fic, as it's a bit different in mood and pacing.


End file.
